


of coal dust and hellfire

by shadowofanempire (vigilantedekus)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Demons Are Assholes, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigilantedekus/pseuds/shadowofanempire
Summary: The Mark electrifies Thomas' nerves so thoroughly that when the butler sets him down, he stumbles a bit. Thething—it can't be human, no human has ever sent that much raw pain racing down his veins—reaches to steady him, but he slaps the hand away without even thinking about it. Thomas meets the thing's eyes and suddenly he is certain.It's a demon. A creature so foul and dangerous that his Mark isscreamingfor him to run, even when the demon is beinghelpful,as much as a demon is capable of it. The idea of how much pain he'll be in if the demon decides it's done playing nice makes Thomas want to be sick."Hello," the demon says politely, with a short bow, "my name is Sebastian Michaelis. Butler to the Earl Phantomhive."Oh god, Thomas is screwed to Sunday and back.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis & Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian Michaelis/Original Character(s), Sebastian Michaelis/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	of coal dust and hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> PSA 
> 
> I don't know what's going on in the Black Butler fandom and I plan to fucking keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for unwanted sexual advances

**part i** — _of coal and diamonds_

Snow drifts down from the gray, cold cloud-covered sky, covering the streets and alleyways of London. Most of the snow is beaten into dirty sludge by passers-by and horse driven carriages, or it simply joins the other puddles of muck that cover the city’s alleys. What little snow doesn’t meet that terrible fate seems oddly focused, Thomas thinks for the nth time, on  _ him _ . Another gust of wind blows into the alley he is stationed in, besides a noble’s townhouse, carrying along more powdered white. That joins the thin layer of white that already coats him, standing out starkly against the dark of most of his clothes and his hair.

Thomas is busy trying to blink snowflakes out of his dark eyelashes when a dull pain sparks at the back of his neck, tracing the outer circle of the Mark that rests there. A moment later, the back door of the townhouse swings open, letting out a wave of heated air that has Thomas stepping forward without consciously deciding to. The man in the doorway leers down at him though, and that's enough to stop Thomas in his tracks.

"Spider." Thomas has to push down a sneer. Spider is a 6 foot something wall of muscle and cruelty, and pissing him off has never ended well. The lackey doesn't like him on a good day, after all.

"Street rat." Spider greets in return, leer never faltering. It makes Thomas' skin crawl, and the Mark continues to be painful. Finally, Spider steps to the side, holding the door open. "Come on then. Angel is waitin'."

Thomas sighs when he crosses the threshold, letting out the last cold breath he had taken in. It's much warmer in here, enough so that Thomas can feel the snow in his hair starting to melt. Spider closes the door behind him and pushes past him roughly, striding away. Thomas scowls and follows him. As much as he hates relying on  _ Spider _ for  _ anything _ , he hasn't been in the townhouse often enough to know the way to Angel's office. He honestly rather hopes he never comes here often enough to memorize the route.

Angel is a man that Thomas sorely regrets ever meeting. He's also a right idiot—insisting that he and his lackeys use codenames when dealing with Thomas, as if he can't go ask any shmuck on the street who lives in this particular townhouse. And he has never once considered that Thomas might be doing the same thing.

Spider finally stops and pulls open the office door, letting Thomas slip through before slamming the door closed. Angel is sitting behind a desk, smiling inanely. In the corner sits his second lackey, a man with hair that's more golden than Angel's own white-blonde. Hawk, as the man is called, is cleaning his nails with a knife, an action that is most likely meant to be intimidating. 

Thomas ignores it. He's had bigger and scarier knives used on him in the past.

He sits in the chair in front of the desk, and Angel pushes forward a teacup made of expensive glass and full of steaming hot tea. Thomas' numb fingers twitch, but he keeps his hands firmly in his pockets. If Angel is offended by Thomas' refusal, it doesn't show. He merely picks up his own cup and takes his time drinking it. By the time he sets the cup back down, Thomas is twitchy.

"What do you want." He says. The faster he figures out who Angel wants him to rob, the faster he can get out of here. Angel doesn't seem to appreciate his urgency.

"Now, Timothy, is that any way to treat a host? You haven't even touched your tea." The nobleman shakes his head, looking disappointed in Thomas' manners. It has no effect on the street rat, especially when he has a hard enough time taking Angel seriously without him using a name he so clearly believes is Thomas' true one. 

"What," he repeats, "do you want?"

Angel lets out a put out sigh. Thomas tries his hardest to not let his eye twitch—the dramatics are annoying, but expected. The blade in the corner flashes, but Thomas ignores that too. He doesn't need to look to know that Hawk is watching him like a…. well.

"There's this little factory on the river…" Angel trails off, obviously expecting Thomas to understand which factory he means.

"There's a lot'a factories on the river." Thomas rebuffs. It's true, a lot of factories are placed on the riverbanks of the Thames, but there are only a few that might be worth sending a thief like Thomas into. He connects the dots before Angel even begins to continue, unease building in his stomach.

"Yes, but this factory is special. It's one of the few with an on-site vault!" A smile stretches across Angel's face. "The Funtom candy factory."

Silence rings throughout the room, draping across the room like a sheet of snow. The only thing that moves is Hawk's knife.

Thomas hates Funtom. It isn't something logical; not like the company has ever personally hurt him or anything. There's just this sense of wrongness to them. Something that makes his Mark react worryingly every time they're mentioned. At some point though, the multitudes of painful shocks when Funtom is mentioned turned his neutral unease into hatred.

Not to mention that Funtom has a history of disappearing people who cross them.

"You're insane." Thomas decides. Hawk stands, but Thomas isn't about to let the man get a chance to intimidate him into this job. He'll do it, because he has no choice, and he doesn't need the extra pain from a stab wound or his Mark. "How long are you giving me."

Angel raises a hand to Hawk, who begrudgingly takes his seat again.

"I think two weeks should be fine, don't you?" Angel asks, as if he wants an answer. "I knew you'd agree, Timothy! I'll have Spider escort you out now."

Thomas gladly takes the dismissal for what it is, standing immediately. Spider is still waiting outside the doors. He takes off the moment Thomas pushes them open, forcing him to jog to keep up. 

"Arse." Thomas hisses under his breath as Spider disappears around the corner. He manages to keep up well enough, but he still feels a rush of anger when he finds Spider leaning leisurely against the back door like he hasn't made Thomas chase after him. Spider grins sharply in response to his glare and merely steps aside, opening the door. 

Thomas marches back out into the cold without a moment's hesitation. To do otherwise is to show Spider weakness, and there's no way in hell that Thomas will do that. So he hunches his shoulders and prepares to retreat.

Spider steps outside after him, and the Mark flaring is all the warning Thomas has before he's spun and slammed against the alley wall. Spider plants his hands on either side of Thomas' head, effectively trapping him for now. He snarls up at the taller man.

"I asked around, talked to some of your street rat friends," Spider drawls, grin as sharp and predatory as Thomas has ever seen it, "And a few of 'em had interesting things to say about the man with blood-red eyes."

"The hell do you want." Thomas snaps. If he ducks under the arms—no, Spider will just grab his coat and pull him back. There's a patch of ice? Maybe he can use that to his advantage.

"Well. Heard you're into blokes." 

Thomas' blood runs cold as the ice that covers the cobble and he tenses, glare sharpening. Spider's grin get larger. 

It isn't as if being gay or bisexual is something unheard of in these times. Plenty of nobles have their side-flings. Plenty of queer clubs exist. That isn't what has Thomas wound tight, ready to fight. No, it's the fact that  _ Spider _ is saying it with that look.  _ Spider _ has him pinned against a wall, and Thomas isn't a fool. He's asked around about the giant with a bad temper just as Spider has asked about him. He's heard some horror stories from brothel girls and street rats alike.

"What do you say about some fun, Rat?" Spider growls, leaning closer. The Mark sends a jolt of  _ dangerdangerdanger _ through him. In an instant, Thomas makes a decision.

He hooks his foot around Spider's ankle and pulls, puts his hands against his chest and  _ shoves _ . It wouldn't normally work, but Spider tries to right himself and slips on the ice patch. He goes down and Thomas jumps past him. 

By the time Spider is climbing to his feet, Thomas has turned the corner and sprinted away. The signals from the Mark die down as he gets farther away. Spider will get him for that, no doubt, but he has two weeks until they have to see each other again. He'll figure something out then.

In the meantime, Thomas has a job to get.


End file.
